I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

What’s a place, habit, or moment that reliably feels a little bit enchanted to you?

This is a great prompt.

I have thought about it for well over a week.

A place: Oh. There are so many.

A habit: Oh. There are so many.

A moment: Oh. There are so many.

I keep coming back to the same place, habit, moment. I don’t know if it’s the date. The time. Or the anniversary. But here is where it brings me.

In January 2000, I moved to the Financial District in Manhattan. Only a few blocks from Wall Street. This was just as people were starting to move into the area. In the two years that I lived there, many office buildings were converted into apartments, and the streets became much more active at night.

But, in January, 2000, it was very quiet after 6:00 p.m. The Wall Street boys all spread to wherever they spent their evenings.

Can I stop for a minute, and say, Wall Street boys are what I’ve always called White Shirts. As I walked around in the area on my way to work, after work, or for my lunch break, the streets were filled with White Shirts. Men in white shirts, almost always with a tie, hardly ever with a jacket. Back then, I’m not sure they even made dress shirts in blue, or stripes, or any other color. 95% of the men on the street had white shirts, and maybe it’s just me, but each one seemed hotter than the next.

A funny story, that I’m not sure I’ve ever told anyone, is that I lived about a five-minute walk from my office. A half block south, and a half block east. One day just as I was approaching the corner I looked to my left and saw two very handsome men, I smiled at one of them, and two seconds later, I heard him exclaim, “Hey, that guy just checked me out.” I kept walking, not wanting to get beaten up on my way to work, but he was indeed very handsome.

I lived very close to my office, so when I finished up at the end of the day, whether it was 5:00 or 7:00 it was a quick walk home. There was very little to do in the area. And I mean very little. All the stores closed by 6:00. There were no restaurants open in the evening, except the rotisserie chicken place up the street, that didn’t have an indoor presence, only take out. I ordered from there a lot. Their mashed sweet potatoes were to die for.

So.

Unless, I wanted to take the train uptown to where civilization existed past 6:00, there was very little to do.

Except.

There was a movie theater in Battery Park, that opened right after I moved there. 16 screens. State of the art. I would often walk over to see a movie after dinner. It was probably a 15 to 20-minute walk. (I just looked it up. 16-minute walk according to MapQuest, who still recognizes Lake Superior).

I think for the 2 years I lived there, I saw almost every movie showing. I showed up and just saw whatever was playing. My worst excursion there was buying a ticket to Kirk Cameron’s Left Behind: The Movie. It was HORRIBLE. HE WAS HORRIBLE. And who knew a movie about the Rapture could be so bad. It really made you hope that you got Left Behind.

My favorite part of seeing movies in Battery Park was the walk home. It was only 16 minutes, but if I veered right on my way, I’d walk by the World Trade Centers. What I discovered was that if I saw a move at 7:30/8:00 or so at Battery Park, then my walk home was very quiet.

Very Quiet.

And the area between The World Trade Centers was VERY QUIET. I’d often stop and sit between the towers and contemplate the world. For me, it always seemed like I was sitting between two mountains beside a creek. With the fountain flowing, and buildings towering miles above, the city always seemed peaceful there. Some nights I’d sit for an hour just thinking, watching, listening.

It was always magical to be there, often alone at 11:00 at night.

Truth be told, had 9/11 not occurred, there was an expiration date on the magic. The city was growing. People were moving into the Wall Street area in record numbers. The nights of quiet and solitude were waning.

But for a brief shining moment, it was my magical place in New York City. A place to sit quietly and contemplate life’s meaning.